


Therapy

by RussianWitch



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Asphyxiation, Chair Sex, Dirty Talk, Dominance, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, mentioned - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-10
Updated: 2015-11-10
Packaged: 2018-04-30 23:12:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5183246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RussianWitch/pseuds/RussianWitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What is says on the tin.<br/>Random scene.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Therapy

**Author's Note:**

> not beta'd

"I liked seeing you crucified," Will says as he sinks to his knees shouldering Hannibal's knees apart to make room for himself. Briefly, he stops to enjoy the fabric of Hannibal's pants under his hands, the texture of them, the way they cover powerful muscle. "Well not  _really _ crucified—but I would have liked to see how long you would have lasted balancing like that if I decided to suck your dick." He explains making short work of belt, and fastenings to lift the appendage in question out of its confines. The hand in his hair is expected, desired a firm grip and sharp yank forces him to look up. Maroon eyes study Will dispassionately: his punishment for the crude words.

Like Hannibal doesn't enjoy it when Will talks dirty.

Shaking off the reprimand, he looks away: back down at the sight he actually wants to see. The ripe dick he can do with as he wishes. Will rubs his unshaven cheek along the silky flesh until there is a noticeable change in Hannibal's breathing. This is a game between the two of them: the first one to  _ask_ loses. Will doesn't intend to lose today, not yet anyway.

Letting his teeth be felt, he works his way back to the tip to suck on it sloppily before letting the slick flesh escape his mouth saliva and pre-come smearing his cheeks as he butts his head against the erection. He could do this for hours: nurse on the rigid flesh, play with it and gag himself on it until he sees stars. Will could almost forget that it is attached to an actual human being instead of a toy, except for the unvoiced wager always in the back of his mind. 

Thankfully, Hannibal can indulge him for a long time.

Will's knees go numb despite the thick carpet covering the office floor. His dick throbs, contained as it is in his clothing: painfully swollen, demanding attention that Will isn't willing to give it. Feeling Hannibal's pleasure is enough: making him voice his pleasure, making him lose control and find his release through Will's ministrations _is_ enough. He can enjoy Hannibal's orgasms just as much as he remembers enjoying his own once. This way is better: he can't get lost in his own mind, no memories can jump up and ambush him while he's concentrating on wringing every last drop of pleasure out of the psychiatrist. 

"Tell me about this fantasy of yours?" Hannibal finally asks just as Will working on swallowing him down again. More command than question, Hannibal's voice barely changing despite the strain to keep control. Will maneuvers until he can meet Hannibal's eyes, making sure the psychiatrists is watching before giving him an eye roll. He is enjoying himself...not that riding Hannibal's dick isn't its own reward.

"You can't resist can you?" He accuses pulling off, digging his nails into Hannibal's knees using them to leverage himself up. Hannibal smiles, his eyes hooded, his hands locked behind the back of the chair: ready for whatever use Will chooses to put him to.

"Resist?" He's asked with studied innocence, agile tongue darting out to trace his lips almost carelessly enough that it might not be premeditated on Hannibal's part. It's enough to make Will growl a warning while getting rid of his pants and underwear. For a moment he considers getting rid of his socks, but the way Hannibal glares at them is too good to resist. Getting the lube from the pretty box that hides it when not in use, Will admires the  prominent position it occupies on Hannibal's desk. Briefly he considers asking Hannibal to prepare him, but he isn't really in the mood to be touched...not that way. Turning away he bends over to give Hannibal a decent view.

His slick fingers find his hole easily, by now showing it off for Hannibal is a pleasant experience. Quite a difference from the beginning when he barely managed preparing himself in the bathroom despite Hannibal's gentle encouragements. Using both hands he keeps his cheeks apart teasing the sensitive  muscle guarding the entrance to his body open. Will pushes two fingers in at once, one from each hand allowing him to spread himself. 

"Will—," the soft prompt snaps him out of his memories, reminds him that he's supposed to be talking.

"I don't think about you bleeding," he starts, slipping another finger into his hole, fucking himself slowly, "just you balancing on something, your arms s pread out and bound so you can't get loose —the noose  just tight enough to press against your Adam's apple—, " pushing the forth finger in takes a bit of work, but when it is in Will can spread the rim and show Hannibal his insides.

"Did you like the noose, Will?" Hannibal's voice keeps him grounded, keeps him just the right side of aroused; Hannibal's arousal that's steadily rising with every more Will makes.

"I couldn't allow myself to touch it, but I kept thinking about it. Did it feel rough? Did you feel the fibers digging into your skin? A proper hangman's noose—did you feel it pressing against your Adam's apple? One little mistake away from tightening up and robbing you of breath permanently," he ignores the fact that had Hannibal fallen, his neck would have snapped, he wouldn't have been strangled. Imagining strangulation is more fun, and it's Will's fantasy after all: the panic, the certainty that every breath can be his last, less and less air getting to his lungs no matter how hard he fights for it.

"Do you know that people used to believe that some men came upon hanging? They were found with erections when someone came to cut them down," satisfied that he's opened himself up enough he returns to Hannibal considering the best way to get what he wants.

In the end, a little prodding allows him to straddle Hannibal's lap his legs hooked over Hannibal's, a little uncomfortably, to brace himself on the chair rungs. Bracing his shoulders against Hannibal's chest he can lift himself a little after guiding the psychiatrist's dick into his body. Hannibal isn't small, Will has to take his time working inch after inch into his body allowing himself to adjust to the stretch, allowing Hannibal to experience the way Will's passage clings to his dick.

When he's finally completely seated, Hannibal's overly controlled breath is in his ear, reaching back Will grabs Hannibal's tie pulling it over his shoulder in case he needs something to bite in to. Hannibal is still enjoying himself, Will feels him throbbing, can almost count Hannibal's heartbeat by tightening his ass muscles.

"Did you only want to watch me struggle?"  Hannibal's voice is still calm, almost bored as it usually is during therapy sessions. Will raises himself up, enjoying the strain on his thighs and drops down on the thick flesh with a moan."No—I'd get something to kneel on, take your dick into my mouth—just the head, suck and lick 

"No—, I'd get something to kneel on, take your dick into my mouth—just the head, suck and lick until you are hard and leaking." Of course Hannibal doesn't believe him, and he shouldn't, selfishly Will imagines the dual pleasure of his own enjoyment at having Hannibal's dick, and Hannibal's pleasure and discomfort at his predicament. Just as he's doing now: pulling at Hannibal's tie as he works himself up and down the man's dick."Would you come for me Will? Spill at my feet in supplication." He nuzzles at Will's cheek, pulls at his ear with his teeth, then 

"Would you come for me Will? Spill yourself at my feet in supplication," he nuzzles at Will's cheek, pulls at his ear with his teeth, then nips at his throat, "would you like me to make you a noose?" 

"No." He doesn't know what will happen if Hannibal brings him a noose. Will half suspects it would be the thing to finally shatter him completely, something Hannibal would certainly enjoy, but Will doesn't have the energy to even think about putting himself together again.

Still, the thought lodges in his brain, takes his breath away. 

Their thoughts are the same. 

The pleasure generously shared.

Will drowns in a sea of red.   



End file.
